Getting Nowhere
by AlwaysAddicted
Summary: His summers weren't usually filled with fun times. The summer after the return of the Dark Lord and the death of Cedric Diggory even less so. The only thing keeping him sane was the thought of returning to Hogwarts, but then the dementor happened. And then the trial. So now he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts, but to Stonewall High... Just his luck.
1. Chapter 1

_Hands, raised._

 _A hammer, slammed on wood._

 _A stick. Crack._

"Mr. Potter?"

He snapped his eyes open. A hostile pair of eyes, filled with impatience, met his. "Eyes open. Preferably directed to the front."

"Yes, sir," he replied, but his voice cracked and the classroom filled with giggles.

The teacher seemed to blame him for the noise. "Pen and paper," he half stated, half ordered, a low growl at the end of his voice.

Harry complied silently, not desiring an even more hostile disposition in his teacher. If there was one thing he would not miss out of this whole ordeal, it was Snape. He didn't want to create a replacement for the nasty git in the form of Mr. Collins: his new mathematics teacher.

The man, like Snape, seemed to hate him at first sight. Literally at first sight, because today was his first day at Stonewall High.

"Potter," the teacher wasn't done with him yet. "Tell me, what would I get as a value for 'x' in the first equation."

Harry looked at the problem Mr. Collins had written on the board, and his mind immediately blanked out. This didn't look like math. Math had numbers. Why were there letters?

"You don't know? Well let's try again…" Mr. Collins added another equation to the board, then turned to him expectantly.

Harry got a vague sense of déjà vu. "I don't know, sir."

"Clearly you're not at the level we desire from beginning fifth year students," the teacher seemed almost smug. "What is do I get if I multiply seven and eight?"

Seven and eight. He remembered learning this in primary school. He knew this was supposed to be easy. However, he's never thought about the multiplication of seven and eight since his eleventh birthday. Seven and eight. Seven. Eight.

"Seventy eight?"

"You've just earned yourself an extra two pages of equations for homework."

And that's when he decided that this man was no better than Snape, that there were no perks in being at Stonewall and that his life plainly sucked.

Mathematics class crept by slowly with him failing to grasp any of the revision material that was apparently easily understood by even the dumbest kids in the class. Not that he even cared that much. Perhaps at least making an attempt to understand the material would soothe the teacher's wrath, but how could he concentrate? How could he turn his mind to some trivial set of equations? There were much more important things to think about. Such as Voldemort.

The sound of the bell.

He was the first to bolt out of the door, although he didn't know where to go next. He dug through the mess in his bag before pulling out a crumbled piece of paper on which his class schedule was printed. Lunchtime.

He followed the others in his class, figuring most were headed towards the cafeteria. The school was nowhere near the size of Hogwarts, but he still figured it would take him at least a few days to get used to the place.

Even if he didn't want to get used to the place. He wanted to be back at Hogwarts.

They entered the cafeteria. Harry followed his classmates towards the line that was forming at the edge of the room. Right, food didn't just appear on the tables here.

And apparently food needs to be paid for here.

He stood in the cafeteria with no money, no lunch, and no friends. What to do now? He scanned the room which was becoming rowdier as more teens settled to eat their meals. No one seemed to take note of him, but he still couldn't help feeling slightly agitated as he stood there alone.

There was one table which didn't seem to get louder every second. Few kids sat there. A couple of girls, most scribbling something in their school notebooks (copying homework, he suspected). Then a little further removed from them sat a boy alone.

Just as he thought about approaching him, another boy did so.

"Watcha reading there, Robby?"

Robby stood up reflexively. "Give it back, Thomas. It's from the school library, you can't ruin it."

Harry watched Thomas unfold what appeared to be a newspaper.

"I'm only taking a look," said Thomas innocently, before promptly ripping it in two.

The library.

Any thoughts of making friends halted. He needed to get to the library.

It took him less than five minutes to find it. It wasn't as big or fancy as the one at Hogwarts and certainly did not feel as cozy, but there were books. And even more importantly, there were newspapers.

His heart beat louder and louder with every step he took towards the rack of fresh papers in the corner. With every step the bold letters on the front became a little clearer: _Lowest unemployment rates in four years._

His heart tumbled weirdly. He didn't know what he felt in response to this news. Relief was probably there. Relief that nothing grotesque seemed to have happened – or at least not something bad enough for the muggle papers to have noticed.

But he wasn't satisfied. While the inane muggle news was a good sign over all, it still left him with no information.

It was summer all over again. The Dursleys, the muggle news, the letters with nothing written in them. This was supposed to be over by now.

He was supposed to be on the train, with his friends, buying candy from the trolley and reading Ron's copy of the Daily prophet. Not wasting away in a stinky and downtrodden school, where he knew no one, and fishing for the slightest scrap of news in a secondhand copy of 'the Sun'.

Realizing he was slowly tearing the paper in his tense fists, he slammed it back on the rack and stormed out.

The bell, signaling the end of break, rang as he entered the halls. Others joined him there, some entering from the cafeteria and some from outside. It became increasingly difficult to work his way through the crowd who was headed in the opposite direction, causing him to grow increasingly agitated.

With every bump, every elbow in his ribs, and every foot on his toes, his mood soured to the point where the lights exploded with a crack of magic.

People screamed, halting in their place. Not deterred, he weaved easily through the student body and out into the open air. No way in hell was he staying in school all day.

He walked, then jogged, then sprinted away from the school, through the gates and then through the streets of Surrey. A teacher, and possibly an officer, had called after him upon escape but it didn't register. He couldn't sit still and do nothing for another moment.

He had to do something. Anything but nothing. Something.

But what?

The lack of focus put a dent in his impulsive determination. He slowed his pace and as the sounds of his rapt footsteps faltered, the sounds of his panting took over. The area was quiet around him, just a few houses and a small park in sight.

A bus stop. He walked towards it and scanned the destinations. A thought struck him. London. He needed to get to London.

He walked on. The bus wouldn't get him there. And despite, he didn't have money for the bus. Not that he had money for a taxi, but he'd worry about that later.

It took some walking, but eventually he found a place busy enough for taxi's to pass by. But then he faced another problem: no one would take him.

After being ignored by five taxi's in a row, he cursed. He needed to get to London. He'd even endure the Knight Bus if it would get him there. If he'd just had his wand…

He paused for a moment, taking a minute to just breathe and think.

Think like Hermione. What would Hermione think? What would she ask?

Nobody is taking him. Why would nobody take him? He had no money. Could they see that? He wasn't wearing Dudley's old elephant skins, luckily. The Dursleys, when sorting out his stuff for school, had caved in on one thing: his uniform. Something about school regulations and making impressions on the school. He didn't care. He was happy to have one.

A uniform.

A school uniform. That's why no one was taking him. It was kind of obvious that he was skipping school.

He stripped out of his outer layers and tie, so that he was just in a white shirt and his trousers. But it was hopeless, he knew that before even trying. Even without a school uniform, he didn't look a day over fifteen. Besides, he probably looked agitated. Shifty.

But he kept trying. An hour he stood there. His feet started to hurt and his stomach started growling fiercely, but he needed to get there. He couldn't, wouldn't, go back.

If only he had a broom.

He tried getting a lift, which he really should have tried before trying a taxi, but it was just as hopeless anyways.

If only he could apparate.

At last a car stopped. A yellow car. A taxi. He wasted no time to step in.

"Where to?" the chauffeur grumbled, eyeing him curiously but not saying anything else.

"London."

He didn't look very reliable as a chauffeur, and the fact that he'd take a school kid during school hours, without questions, probably meant that he wasn't. But Harry would take what he could get.

It didn't take long before he saw the Leaky Cauldron appear in his sight. The taxi stopped a few shops ahead.

"That'll be twenty, kid."

Harry looked at him. Right, money. He didn't have any.

Without warning he opened the door and ran. The other door opened behind him as the chauffeur initiated his chase. But it was too late. Within seconds he'd burst into the dingy wizarding pub, contently hidden from the muggle's view.

Tom, the bartender, eyed him strangely as Harry asked him to open the way to Diagon Alley. Undoubtedly he'd hear of the news. Of his trial. His wand.

But the man didn't say anything, silently doing as he'd asked.

He was barely able to mumble a thanks before he'd rushed of. There was only so much time before he'd be back at the Dursleys. His time was precious.

He went in search for a newspaper first. His plan of action was to simply ask for one, anyone who passed by.

Securing his scar behind his fringe, he set to work. Luckily, this task went a lot smoother than the taxi had been. In minutes he'd spotted someone at Florean Fortescue's, a copy of the Daily Prophet discarded on the table. The man gave it to him without much care.

Eagerly his eyes scanned over the letters.

 _Dumbledore: is he daft or is he dangerous?_

He wanted to scream.


	2. Chapter 2

p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""There he is."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Two hours he'd spent in Diagon Alley, yet that blasted chauffeur was still waiting there for him. A police officer accompanied him./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He tried to run, but they'd been expecting that. He hadn't stood a chance. And that's how he ended up arriving at number four Privet Drive, in a police car./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He'd stood next to the officer as uncle Vernon opened the door. His uncle tried not to react too inappropriately, acting affronted by Harry's actions, apologetic for his behavior, and sincerely appeasing by handing over the taxi money (with a good tip). The officer had been sufficiently pleased and had left./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"But Harry clearly saw the punishment that was to come in the strain that accompanied his uncle's gestures. The glint in his eyes was always a telltale sign./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"So that's how he got locked up in his room. And that's how he returned to school, now having missed three meals in a row./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He'd had no money for lunch, was locked up before dinner, and freed after breakfast only twenty minutes before school (which was a thirty minute walk removed from Privet Drive). And again, he had no money for lunch. Figures./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He got to his first class in time, but barely. He'd needed to run at a steady pace and now he was sweaty and faint, but he was there. Mr. Collins hadn't been particularly welcome yesterday, so he'd rather not take any chances today./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""Mr. Potter," the teacher began not a second after he'd stepping into the class. "I see you've graced us with your lovely presence today. Word is that you've already missed half your classes and we've barely started the second day."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"The class didn't respond verbally, but he saw the amused smirks due to his misfortune. Harry tried his best not to let the teacher get to him, but it didn't work completely. What even was the teacher's problem with him?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""Perhaps your relatives were a bit too optimistic about your transfer," he went on. "Personally, I believe you would have benefitted from a few more years at your last school. St. Brutus's, wasn't it?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"And then it all clicked into place. That's why most teacher seemed to have a judgement of him before the class even started. That's why the Dursleys had gotten him a new uniform. The school had needed convincing to accept him./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"A growing rage was calmed by a sense of hopelessness and helplessness. He supposed it was for the better, or he would probably have done something stupid in his anger. Like accidental magic-ing the windows into exploding, or tackling his teacher with his bare hands. Or simply screaming./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Instead he pulled his math book from his bag and opened it to the proper page. He stared at the opened page, and immediately his head started to hurt. Why had he chosen to take math again?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He thought back to the summer. Somewhere in the whirlpool of maddening events which and occurred right before the start of term, there was a memory of him filling in a form. He'd marked a few subjects at random. Hopefully he wouldn't come to regret that too much./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He put an effort into paying attention for roughly five minutes before his mind decided that math was too painful to think about. He drifted off./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Dumbledore: is he daft or is he dangerous?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Is he daft or is he dangerous?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Is he daft or is he dangerous?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"People were daft. Of course he isn't dangerous./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Hands, raised./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"A hammer, slammed on wood./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"A stick. Crack./span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;" /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He held his pencil as if it were his stick, his wand. As if all was as it should be. As if he was at Hogwarts, practicing charms./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"How long would it be before he heard from anyone? They wouldn't let him stay here for the rest of his years. They couldn't./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Ron and Hermione wouldn't stand for it. Neither would Remus. Or Sirius./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Was it Dumbledore then? Was he the reason no one is contacting him? Is he keeping him cut off?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Of course not. Dumbledore isn't daft./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"But why then? Why is he still here? Why can't he be with Sirius? They'd both wished to live together for a while. Wasn't now the perfect time?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"It would certainly be better than staying with the Dursleys. At least he wouldn't have to scrutinize the muggle news for a scrap of a sign. At least he wouldn't have to risk arrestation to get to Diagon Alley. At least he would be with Sirius./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"His next class was art, which was more than a mild improvement from mathematics. First of all, the teacher didn't seem to have a judgement of him yet. Well she did, but at least she didn't view him as a menace. More as a pity case. It was irritating, but at least he wouldn't have to worry constantly about aggravating her. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Secondly, art didn't make his head hurt the way math did. Sure, he wasn't the best with paint, but at least he wasn't the worst either. That right was reserved for a boy named Thomas./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"The art classroom had tables set up in pairs. Harry hadn't really expected anyone to sit next to him, or at least expected it to be the last poor soul to enter the classroom after all his or her friends were already partnered up./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"But no. Thomas abandoned his entire clique of jocks to sit next to him. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""Hello," Thomas greeted./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""Hi," Harry said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He was wary of the boy. He vaguely remembered him ripping some other boy's newspaper to shreds. It didn't exactly strike him as friendly behavior. So why the friendliness towards him now?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""You're the transfer, right?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Harry nodded slightly. Were transfers an uncommon occurrence here or was the gossip cycle at Stonewall even worse than at Hogwarts?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""So you went to St. Brutus's?" The boy seemed way to eager./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Harry nodded again, growing steadily less eager./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""You know, a few kids I know said they went to the same primary school as you," the boy pointed to some of his friends, who weren't being subtle about listening to their conversation. One waved in greeting. Harry did vaguely recognize one or two, but he hadn't exactly interacted with them a whole lot in the past. "They say you're a proper weirdo."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Harry didn't even know how to respond to that. But Merlin, that boy knew how to be annoying./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""But I don't think you are," Thomas continued./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Harry didn't know how to respond to such a strange remark. "Thanks," he said shortly./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"They were silent for a moment as the class started. Well, Harry was. Thomas seemed to not care the least./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""You went to St. Brutus's," Thomas whispered, "so you've been in like proper fights."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Harry's mind flashed to the graveyard. His gut twisted. Sure, you could call that a proper fight. He didn't respond./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""I bet you could take on anyone in this room easily." Thomas seemed almost excited. It was as if he was recruiting Harry into his circle of friends. It reminded him of Draco's offer of friendship back in first year./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"Harry saw the boy open his mouth to say something. "Class has started," Harry cut him off./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"'Mrs. Walker' was written on the board in elegant letters./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""But let's start with something fun," Mrs. Walker said. "I want you all to paint something inspired by your summer vacation."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"He almost physically flinched at the mention of the summer vacation./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""You won't get a grade for this but it can earn you extra credit if I believe you've earned it." The grumbling noise of conversation started up again as Mrs. Walker handed out paper./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""I'm sorry," the boy next to him wasted no time. "I haven't even introduced myself properly. My name's Thomas Smith, but most just call me Tom."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;""Harry Potter," Harry said before turning his back on him to retrieve some paint from the back of the classroom. He didn't like 'Tom', Harry decided./span/p 


End file.
